


Ice Crystals

by Lavellanvibes



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Emprise du Lion (Dragon Age), Eventual Smut, F/M, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Major Character Injury, Men Crying, Multi, Nobody is Dead, Phone Sex, Sending Crystal (Dragon Age) Sex, Sending Crystals (Dragon Age), Smut, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:42:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27867806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavellanvibes/pseuds/Lavellanvibes
Summary: Samson and Sadira take the magical sending crystal with them to the Emprise du Lion. Lonely Cullen has fun naughtily communicating with them, but a tragic situation causes him to worry greatly for Sadira's safety.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Raleigh Samson, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford/Raleigh Samson, Female Inquisitor/Raleigh Samson, Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Raleigh Samson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You can find more Sadira at lavellanvibes.tumblr.com
> 
> This fic features graphic depictions of injury (in a canon-typical way)  
> There will be a happy ending with smut in chapter 4, I promise!

CULLEN

* * *

It had been a long day.

Cullen dragged himself up the ladder to his quarters as he left his inquisition paperwork behind for the night. Neither of his lovers were there to coax him into bed, but the tension headache that was working its way up his spine was enough persuasion for him

His room was dark and chilly. Snow fell softly outside, and he silently thanked Sadira for convincing him to fix his roof. The floorboards creaked as he made his way to his bed. Alone. He sighed as he climbed under the cold, crisp covers.

“Cullen? Cullen, are you there?” The ruby-colored sending crystal blinked at his bedside table. Samson’s gritty voice echoed in his drab quarters. Smiling to himself, he began to undo his breeches and snuggled further into his mattress. The anticipation of the events to unfold had already gotten his blood pumping. His lovers had pinged him with the crystal every night that week. Each time had left him satisfied yet yearning for their embrace. Just out of reach. He imagined the pair entwined in their shared bedroll as they enjoyed each other’s bodies for Cullen’s listening pleasure.

“I’m here, I certainly miss you both very-“

“Cullen, I need you to listen.” Samson’s voice was grave as he interrupted. Cullen knew this tone from Kirkwall. Knew it when there was danger. His blood ran cold as the Skyhold winter night.

The wool comforter slid down Cullen’s body as he abruptly shot up. “What is it, Raleigh?” He asked.

“Dira’s hurt.”

Cullen raked his fingers through his curls as he took in Samson’s words. Surely, she had been hurt before. He himself was no stranger to injury. But he had seen battle. The wounds that could be inflicted on the battlefield... The very thought made him shudder. The tone of Samson’s voice and the urgency of the call made his hands shake. He had never been notified before. What was different this time? The wooden floorboards were hard under his feet as he realized he had somehow gotten up and began pacing the room. He asked the question he didn’t want the answer to. “How badly?”

A pause on Samson’s end as he heard the other man take a breath. He could make out the sounds of howling wind and snow crunching boots through the crystal, which pulsated in a mockingly calm glow.

“I’m gonna put the crystal to her ear. Tell her you love her, Cullen.” His voice was tight, broken.

Cullen’s skin suddenly felt too tight and he was filled with the urge to escape. Escape where? His realization at Samson’s words was trapping him in this nightmare. “No, no, that’s not necessary, she’s survived this far. She will be fine. Where is your elfroot?” Cullen’s voice was coming in short pants.

“There isn’t any. She- she can’t heal this. We’re taking her back to the keep. Would you just bloody tell her, Cullen?”

Hot tears spilled from Cullen’s eyes as his throat tightened. He felt utterly helpless. Surely, this was a nightmare. “Where is she now, Sam?” Cullen asked. He was on his knees, now.

“I’m carrying her. She’s in and out.” Samson said. He could hear Samson’s armor plates shifting as he moved the elf in his arms. “Hey, Poppet. Wake up, I have Cullen here.” He spoke quietly to the unconscious Sadira. The tenderness in Samson’s voice wrenched Cullen’s heart.

Sadira’s waking groans emanated through the crystal. “Cullen? Where?” She whimpered in confusion, voice horse. “I can’t... I can’t see you.”

“It’s alright. I’m right here.” Cullen spoke to his empty room as fat tears rolled down his cheeks and plopped onto the splintered wood below. “You’ll be alright. I promise. Raleigh will take good care of you.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “I love you, Sadira.”

Sadira had begun to whimper in pain again. Samson’s quiet shushes were carried away by the howling blizzard.

“It’s half a day’s march to the keep. We’ll walk through this maker forsaken storm. Keep the crystal handy, Len. I’ll do my damndest to get her back to you safe.”

The crystal went silent. Cullen gripped it to his chest as he let his sobs break through the silence of his room in the snow covered night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party members struggle with a difficult battle, and the inquisitor is injured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features blood and injury! Be aware.

Samson hated the winter. He hated the snow, the chill that settled in his bones, and the way that the cold slowed his movements. Most of all, he hated seeing Sadira shiver and grimace against the biting wind. The winter sunset bled sickly red and orange through the skeletal trees like a wound. The temperature dropped even lower as the sun departed. Winds from the north gusted freezing air in a vortex of miserable cold. Despite his hatred of the frozen wasteland, he never thought this would be the place where he might lose her forever.

 _The countless rifts they had closed bolstered their confidence as they approached a rather large one on the outskirts of the emprise._ _Their potions ran low, but Sadira was sure they could overcome. The battle was a haze of green, pulsating light and demon screeches. After two, and then three potions, fear settled in Samson’s gut. They weren’t going to come out of this alive._

_Sadira’s scream cut through the electrically charged air. A demon- Samson didn’t know what wretched creature- had its claws pierced through her torso and was lifting her into the air. The sight of her impaled sent nausea up his throat. “Dira!” he screamed. She lifted her hand and blasted white bolts of lightning through the demon, both of their forms crashing to the snow covered ground._

In a flash of green light, the rift miraculously closed. The inquisitor lay twisted in the snow. Her anchor smoldered with green veilfire. The two other men in their party faded into the background as Samson ran to his injured love. 

Crimson blood leaked onto the glittering snow the elf was half-buried in. Dread unlike he had ever felt settled like a lead anchor in this chest. Cold wind whipped against his face as he fell to his knees beside her. The glittering stars hid behind heavy snow clouds and the last peek of the sun slipped beyond the horizon. Her eyes stared straight up at the black sky, but puffs of vapor rose from her nose. Sadira was alive, thank the maker. His heart seized when he saw her wound. Rivulets of blood flowed from deep punctures in her armor. It was a mess of ripped skin, fabric, and blood. Icy fear gripped his heart. _Maker,_ Samson prayed silently but fervently, _please, don’t take her from me._

“Inquisitor!” Blackwall shouted over the wind as he and Varric approached the scene. Blackwall’s eyes widened at the sight of the elf. "Do you have any more elfroot?" he asked. Samson shook his head. "No, I- fuck." he hissed. Panic paralyzed him as his eyes darted over Sadira, not knowing what to do next. _She's going to die,_ Samson thought, _She's going to die right in front of me and-_

“We have to stop the bleeding and get to the keep.” Blackwall said in his low timbre, stopping to squat beside him. Samson nodded as he snapped out of his grief and began rummaging in his pack for anything to staunch the flow of blood. He found a squashed roll of bandages and a pair of wool trousers. He hadn’t needed the bandages when traveling with Sadira. Her glowing magic stitched and soothed any wounds in their travels. He sacrificed his trousers without a second thought.

Sadira’s fingers probed her wounds in her shocked state, her fingers sliding in the blood. “I… Raleigh… I” she gasped in a thin voice. Samson took her wrist and lowered it beside her as he began to unwrap the fabric. “Shh, don’t speak.” he whispered. Samson hoisted her upright to wrap her torso tight. A strangled yelp escaped her throat. She flopped in his arms, strength leaving her body. Shivers wracked her body and the sounds of her chattering teeth were audible. Varric helped tie the legs of the trousers around her to keep the bandages in place. The wrappings wouldn’t stop the bleeding, but it would buy them time to get to the keep.

A cold chill pierced his armor with a gust of snowy wind. He had removed his cloak and wrapped the injured elf from head to toe in the heavy wool fabric. Her grimacing face peeked out from the black wool she was blanketed in, held tightly against Samson’s chest as he carried her. He had removed the warm scarf she knit for him and wrapped it around her pointed ears. The cold immediately encircled his neck without it, but keeping his love warm was all that mattered. She looked so _small_ like this. So vulnerable. With her fierce magic it was easy to forget the woman under it all. 

Sadira had surface from her shock and was groaning in pain. The movement from his stride and gripping arms no doubt aggravated her damaged insides. "Raleigh...the elfroot..." Sadira grit out in gasps. Her brow was creased in pain as she looked up at him with half lidded eyes. "I'm so sorry, Dira." Samson said, a lump forming in his throat. "There isn't any." She didn't respond, but choked gasps continued to fall from her lips.

The whistling wind carried flurries of bitter-cold snow that stung Samson’s face. At least Sadira had stopped shivering. His own comfort wasn’t a factor when she was this badly hurt. He grit his teeth and soldiered on. She didn’t have much time, if any at all. She was fading in an out of consciousness, now. Samson listened for her heartbreaking groans over the wind, growing softer and softer. An agonizing thought throbbed at the front of his mind with each step he took. _What if he lost her?_ _What if this was it?_ He glanced down at her grimacing face. Samson had fallen in love exactly twice in his life. He considered himself a lucky man to have both of his loves close to his heart. The thought of losing Sadira, his second love, his lady, kept his feet moving. No force in Thedas could stop him now. 

The sending crystal hung on a chain around his neck, and he eyed it, thinking of Cullen. Samson’s heart filled with pain as he imagined his lover’s reaction to the news of Sadira’s injuries. He had promised Cullen he would protect her with everything he had. The feeling of failure stung as he thought about his promise. Giving Cullen the chance to say goodbye to Sadira was all he could offer him. Everything Samson cared about was still being destroyed, he thought bitterly. The life he was reclaiming was being ripped away. He deserved none of his happiness, and the maker was punishing him for his sins. He was being punished for even _thinking_ he had deserved this second chance. He should have known.

Samson took a shaky breath of cold air and spoke into the crystal. “Cullen? Cullen, are you there?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can’t lose her. I can’t.”  
> Samson grit his teeth against the tide of emotions. Emotions he hadn’t felt in longer than he could remember. Sadira had come into his life and revived his cold heart with her love. That damned beautiful elf with her kind eyes and gracious heart.
> 
> Samson brings Sadira to the keep to have her wounds treated.  
> This chapter features Cullen and Samson, Cullen and Sadira, and of course Sadira and Samson.  
> I worked very hard on dialogue and I hope you enjoy!!  
> Contains art!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses on injury recovery and treatment . There are graphic depictions of injury, treatment, pain, and fear. As with medieval injury treatment, needles are mentioned but not graphically described. The fear and pain associated with a non-modern medical treatment will be featured. There is also angst about potential character death! (No actual character death and there won’t be)  
> The art depicts blood and bruising as well as bandages and a nude Sadira in a non sexual setting.

_ Suledin Keep rose out of the swirling snow, hardly visible in the inky blackness of night. Sadira’s mind felt heavy, as if she were underwater in a murky pond. Did Samson know how to swim? She tried to ask him but no words came out. She stared up at the bottom of his chin as he carried her. Sadira wasn’t sure why he was carrying her- where was she again?  _

_ Impenetrable confusion sat heavy in the front of her mind. Her torso felt as if it were filled with hot coals. White hot pain pulsated with every strenuous inhale. She tried to focus on Samson’s steady stride. Snowflakes stuck to his hair and eyebrows. She hoped he wasn’t cold. Her consciousness ebbed until she faded into sleep.  _

_ When she awoke again, she felt her body being lowered onto a flat surface. It was soft, she presumed sheets of a bed. She forced her heavy lids open to a fuzzy, fire-lit room. Several strange people bustled about, none of them Samson. He had just been holding her, and now he was gone. Her eyes flicked around in slow motion as the room tilted and turned. Had she been captured? Fear seized her heart as she tried to activate her magic. “Woah- stop that, stop that.” A voice said, grabbing her wrist and lowering it. She lacked the strength to resist the restraint.  _

_ “Corypheus still stands, she must stay alive.” Sadira heard an unfamiliar woman’s voice urging. She bristled at the voice. Why was this person so concerned about her duty when she was hurt and helpless? Sadira was simply a tool to them, a means to an end. Hot tears formed at the corners of her closed eyes.  _

_ Hands began to examine her wounded side and she couldn’t hold back the yelp that escaped. The intense pain was back. “Raleigh- help me!” She cried in desperation. She was so afraid. She wondered whether they had captured him as well. The pain increased until it was all she could perceive. She was yelling, now.  _

_ An argument between two voices burst through her consciousness. Whatever the hands were doing to her wounds paused in their work. Sadira sucked in several breaths of air in relief at the respite. The pain was back to a steady throb instead of a white hot torture. She cracked open her clenched eyes.  _

_ After several seconds of focusing, Samson’s face came into view. His cheeks were flushed from the winter wind. His long brown hair was tangled around his head and wet, frozen in some places. She would have laughed at his disheveled appearance, had she had the strength. She choked out a relieved sound. He was safe. Sadira tried to reach for him but none of her limbs seemed to want to listen to her brain. His face was unreadable, worry set in his brows and his eyes glancing over her body before making eye contact. She gazed in his hazel eyes and tried to speak, to say anything. He smiled at her, but the worry etched in his features remained. Samson brought a wet cloth to her face, the cool water delightful on her hot skin. She murmured his name again and again, relieved he was alright. “I’m here, Dira,” he rasped in that low, accented voice she loved so much.  _

_ Samson’s cold hand laced with hers, and she held on with all her fading strength. The pain began again, but his grip on her hand never faltered, and steadied her through the worst of it until all sensations faded and she dropped into a dreamless sleep.  _

  
  
  
  


**********

Sadira’s face was ashen. The freckles that dusted her normally peachy cheeks now stood out like ashes amongst the snow. Dark shadows sat under the fan of her closed lashes. Her Vallaslin was a pale vine against her sweaty brow. It seemed to react slightly to blood flow, he reasoned. When he would endeavor to make her blush, the intricate swirls were a luminous lavender above her sparkling eyes. The markings at her chin framed her coral, kissable lips. Conversely, when she was furious, it stood like a flaming crown and accented her scowl. Now, her blood loss had stolen its saturation. She had explained to him the Dalish blood writing when she found him staring curiously. Samson practiced pronouncing the word until he got it exactly right. Vallaslin. Magic written into her skin that Samson marveled at in moments she wasn’t looking. It took her three tries to endure the pain of the ritual, she confessed to him one night. He didn’t see it as weakness. Sadira waged war against herself every day. That she could battle her inner fears when most would never know anything of her constant struggle? That was courage. She had agreed with him that night, nodding silently as tears leaked through her clenched eyes. 

A knock at the door scattered Samson’s ruminating thoughts. He reached for a blanket to cover Sadira’s exposed chest. “Who is it?” He asked, hoping it wasn’t the rough-handed healer. Sadira needed more rest before he worked on her again. Blackwall’s deep voice reverberated through the wood. “Thought I might check in?” 

Blackwall opened the door, carrying a steaming bowl of fragrant stew. Morning light shone from the corridor behind him. It was then Samson realized what time it was. He was weary down to his bones. They had brought Sadira to the keep late the night before, and the healer had worked on her until daybreak. 

Samson looked at the stew and then up at Blackwall. “Thank you, but she ah, can’t eat right now.” Samson said, gesturing at the sleeping woman. Blackwall raised an eyebrow. “It’s for you. I figured you’d need something hearty to eat, what with all the exertion.” 

The events of the last few strenuous hours settled in Samson’s throat as he choked down a lump of emotion. Kindness wasn’t something he was used to. “Andraste’s blood. You didn’t have to bring me anything. Thank you.” Samson took the bowl from him, his stomach loudly growling at the sight. Blackwall chuckled warmly. “Watching after Inquisitor Lavellan, now that would exert any man. How is she?”

Samson shook his head. “She really could use a damn potion. Passed out as the healer was finishing up and hasn’t woken since.” He looked over at Sadira, whose skin was glistening with a layer of sweat. Strands of silver hair stuck to her brow. “He told me-“ Samson stopped, pinched his brow and breathed in a steadying breath “He told me she would die.” 

The room was silent for several seconds as BLackwall paused, seemingly thinking of something to say. The fire popped and crackled. Samson always loved a roaring fire, but now the heat felt suffocating. Sadira and he would curl up in front of the fire in her quarters back in Skyhold, sharing mulled wine and treats while Cullen slept. Their special time together. Two sleepless, broken people whispering in the flickering light of the fire in between kisses. Pangs of anguish shot through his chest as he thought of her warming her adorable toes in front of the fire a few nights before Santinalia. She had shrieked when she stuck her foot too far and they laughed when Cullen roused from his sleep, wondering what was going on. 

“The inquisitor has walked into the fade and back. She will come back from this, I’m certain of it.” Blackwall’s voice was strong and sure. Samson wished he felt the same sentiment. He stared into the bowl of soup and nodded in response. Steam rose from the soup but Samson hardly had an appetite. It was slowly returning since he had ceased the red lyrium, but seeing Sadira impaled on the demon’s claws… he had felt nauseated since. Samson tried a spoonful of soup despite the protests of his stomach. It was warm, and soothed his throat. It didn’t occur to him how sore his throat was from the cold until that moment. “Right. Well, we’re playing cards in the main hall, if you need some company.” Blackwall said, and Samson smiled politely at him as he closed the door behind him. 

Mid-chew, Samson realized he had not updated Cullen since they arrived at the keep the night before. He scrambled for the crystal, gripping the cool, hard artifact in his hands. “Len? It’s me.” Samson spoke, listening for the soothing voice of his lover. Maker, but he missed Cullen. In his wrecked emotional state, he yearned for Cullen’s warm embrace. The younger man would touch him with a familiar gentleness as the smell of oakmoss and elderflower surrounded him. Samson desperately ached for the comfort that would soothe the gnawing worry in his chest. 

“What’s going on, Raleigh?” Cullen’s voice was stern with a thread of desperation in his words. He was trying to hold it together. 

“She’s alive.” He could hear the other man’s shaky sigh on the other end. “But the healer said  it’s too soon to call it . It was rough, Cullen. She lost so much blood.” he said grimly. 

“I see. What of the potions at the keep?” Cullen said, always trying to command his way out of any scenario. Samson knew he found comfort in control, in plans.

“No good. Ice has killed off most of the damned elfroot bloom. We’re on rations. A scout’s out there in the blizzard collecting what they can.” Samson sighed, settling his forehead in his hands. “Healer stitched her back together like a torn blouse. She was screaming something awful. Bastard wouldn’t even let me go to her at first.” He glanced up at his poor, injured lady, the constant feeling of anguish in his chest intensifying. 

“Maker’s breath. I yearn to be with you both . I have been praying all night to the Maker, Sam. And you, how are you holding up?” Cullen’s voice took a note of tenderness as he asked about Samson.

“This is my fault. I was so slow in the damned cold.” Samson said. He deserved all the pain he was feeling. He almost wanted Cullen to agree, to tell him how worthless he was. He couldn’t protect the person who had given him a second chance, out of the kindness in her heart. Sadira and Cullen saved his life, and he was letting them both down.

“Raleigh. Don’t you dare blame yourself. Our love is the Inquisitor, she faces danger greater than you or I could have ever imagined.” Cullen said. Samson nodded, not entirely convinced. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. Still I…. fuck.” Samson’s voice cracked. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes, but he swallowed them down along with the painful lump in his throat. “I can’t lose her. I  _ can’t.”  _ He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to keep the tears in. “We will get through this. Together.” Cullen’s voice was wavering as well, and Samson supposed he was crying. 

__

Samson grit his teeth against the tide of emotions. Emotions he hadn’t felt in longer than he could remember. Sadira had come into his life and revived his cold heart with her love. That  _ damned  _ beautiful elf with her kind eyes and gracious heart. How his day- his  _ week-  _ was made whenever he could make her perpetual pout turn up into a smile. He would never tire of her lilting voice teasing him or babbling on about something- until he shut her up with a bruising kiss. 

The room was quiet save for the sounds of the popping fire and the sharp sobs that wracked Samson’s chest. 

….

  
  


Sadira’s pale lips began moving and Samson could hear small sounds as she tried to form words. Samson lifted himself from the chair with urgency and knelt beside the bed. She hadn’t shown any signs of consciousness since the healer finished his treatment. The murmurs escaping her lips made Samson’s heart leap with hope. 

_ His heart had practically stopped when he felt her grip on his hand slacken as the healer finished stitching the last of the wound. He shouted her name and shook her small shoulders but the elf did not wake. Her head lolled from side to side, lifeless. Her usually coral lips were bloodless. Bile rose in his throat as the healer felt for Sadira’s pulse _ .  _ Still alive, barely. To his dismay, she had slept through several bandage changes. Her face betrayed no evidence of consciousness even as Samson lifted her to help wrap her torso with fresh bandages.  _

Samson shook his head, dispelling the thought. His body still was trembling from almost losing her. Her state had not changed since his conversation with Cullen that morning. Samson feared he would never see her lavender eyes open again. 

“What was that, Poppet?” he said, desperate to hear her sweet voice. He brushed hair back from her sticky temple as he leaned close to his love. “I’m sorry. It’s what they wanted.” Sadira mumbled. Her eyelids fluttered with the effort of keeping them open. Samson frowned. What did she mean? Her confusion was troublesome and made Samson fearful for her state. “Dira, I don’t- I don’t understand. Just rest, you can tell me later.” He reached for the glass of water at the bedside table. “Here, drink this.” he said as he tenderly lifted her head to the glass. She sipped at the water before closing her lips. “Andraste’s tits, Dira, drink a little more.” she complied with his prompting. He gently lowered her head back to the pillow and set the glass back.

“I have to be brave.” She said, her words barely a whisper. Her eyebrows furrowed in an endearing frown. He turned back to her, sighing. Samson gently stroked her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “You are brave, Twerp. Zapped the demon who did this to you. Closed the maker-forsaken rift.” he spoke as gently as his red lyrium ruined voice would allow. Sadira shook her head weakly. “I don’t  want to be, Vhenan.” His heart squeezed in his chest. He knew his lady didn’t want to be the Inquisitor, to have any of the responsibilities on her shoulders. It hurt to know he couldn’t take this burden from her. He wished he could tell off any bastard who tried to force her into any duty that would endanger her. “I know, Sadira.” he whispered. 

Sadira had begun to stir agitatedly, waking more and likely feeling the pain of her injuries. “Fancy a chat with our dear Cullen?” Samson asked, forcing a smile and pleasant tone, trying his best to distract her.

Sadira’s eyes opened as she looked around in confusion. “Cullen… where… Vhenan?” she said desperately. She tried to sit up and squealed in agony at her even slight movements. The blood loss was contributing greatly to her delirium. “Shh, Sadira, close your eyes. I’ll… bring in Cullen. Just lay back.” Samson moved to lay in the bed beside her, carefully lowering himself on top of the sweat soaked sheets. Late afternoon light leaked from under the door. His bones creaked as he lay down. He had been sitting by her side all day, sitting vigil and watching her down turned eyelashes for any sign of movement. She sighed and turned her head towards him. He held the crystal in his hands, whispering for Cullen to speak.

"Sadira, sweetling, it’s Cullen.” Cullen’s voice transmitted through the crystal, sweet as honey. Samson lay his head on the pillow beside Sadira’s head, her breathing fanning his cheek as they listened to his syrupy voice. Sadira smiled weakly, her pain forgotten the moment he said her name.

“Cullen… which horse did you take?” Her eyelids were drooping, her energy leaving in small increments.

Cullen paused, clearly thinking of something to say to comfort her in her confusion. It would take at least a week on horseback to reach her, if not more in this heavy blizzard. 

“Master Dennet’s fastest horse. I needed to get to you hastily, my love. I would not waste any time to rush to your side.” he murmured. Sadira hummed through her small smile. “The brown one... With the braided tail?” she asked. Cullen chuckled warmly. “Yes, that’s the one. Sadira, I am relieved you are alright. I was so worried. My brave love.” 

“M’’not scared. Leigh carried me.” she said, her head drooping and leaning her temple against Samson’s. “I was safe.” her voice trailed off as she began to drift into sleep. Samson’s breath caught at the loving tone in her words. Her delirious murmurs were more tender than any romantic confession she could ever say. 

Samson brought the crystal to his lips. “We’ll watch over our princess as she sleeps, right, Cullen?” he asked. He trailed his fingers up her arm as he stroked her skin in soothing, feather-light touches. His own body was relaxing and coming down from the anguish-stricken morning. The sweet voices of his lovers lulled him into relaxing a bit. 

“Sam. I expect you to rest as well.” Cullen’s voice was stern over the crystal. He was using his Commander’s tone, Samson noticed. Samson couldn’t sleep. He had to keep Sadira safe. “I can’t, Len. I have to make sure she won’t… that she’s breathing.” He said. He had failed Cullen once, he wouldn’t repeat his mistakes again. 

“You’re no help to her if you run yourself into the ground. Don’t make me worry for the both of you. Please, Raleigh, rest.” Cullen’s sweet voice soothed Samson. Perhaps he could rest, for a little.

“Fine. You don’t have to bloody command me.” Samson said, his affectionate tone betraying his words. “Sleep well, Sam.” Cullen whispered. He could see Cullen’s beautiful smile in his mind’s eye. That damned scar accenting his perfect lips. How he missed him.

Sleep tugged at his consciousness. He was so  _ tired.  _ He couldn’t recall the last time he had slept. Was it yesterday? Laying beside Sadira, he allowed his breathing to sync with hers. Hearing her voice had soothed the shaking in his limbs. The churning in his gut had dissipated and his whole body felt weary. He wondered what Sadira was dreaming of, if anything at all. Despite her sweat-sticky skin, her hair smelled of pine needles as always. He imagined the elf napping under an evergreen tree in her Dalish camp. They would have to visit her family, some day. Pleasant thoughts of laying in the warm grass with Sadira and Cullen filled his mind, their faces dappled with afternoon light, until he drifted off to sleep. 


End file.
